


Moonlight

by cynicalcity



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Multi, Slavery, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 15:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13367571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynicalcity/pseuds/cynicalcity
Summary: Daichi surveyed the space, sweat beading down his neck, throat parched and swollen. Seated behind a table of valuables, a boy, or rather merchant, studied him. He was the relaxed exterior of waves lapping against the hull of a boat, luring lost sailors into a false sense of security. His prominent cheekbones were dusted with a pleasant flush. Eyelashes thick, and dark - swept over with kohl.Daichi felt as though a feeble human gazing at stars. The merchant’s existence a mystery he wanted to discern.The boy linked his fingers together with fluid elegance, considering Daichi with a quirk of his head. A smile ghosting his features - bangled earring swinging.“What can I do for you?





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this account for three years and haven't posted anything lmao. this has been sitting in my drive for months so giving myself some incentive by posting this. chapter is pretty much just Daichi and captains being super gay. if you enjoy that then read on :)

He felt as though his ears were stuffed with cotton - sound muted, quiet. The hushed whisper of wind, and sand flitting across the dunes.

Golden trinkets refracted light against the tent, dappling the space in a kaleidoscope of colours. Supple petals of blue iris coalesced with sunset, mingling with sakura petals that bloomed with fervour. Wind chimes swayed gently from the ceiling, lulling drowsy visitors.

Daichi welcomed the cool relief of shade on his skin, a bone weary exhaustion seeping into his bones. 

Why he found himself in said predicament, was mainly Oikawa's fault. They’d traveled across the desert to rendezvous with the boy, straining their legs until they dissolved into remnants of delirious laughter and stumbling. The trip was originally supposed to take one night - not to mention, they’d only packed minimal provisions. 

Three days had passed.

After ensuring that - no, Bokuto wasn't holding the map upside down - it became clear that they were lost. 

Daichi surveyed the space, sweat beading down his neck, throat parched and swollen. Seated behind a table of valuables, a boy, or rather merchant, studied him. He was the relaxed exterior of waves lapping against the hull of a boat, luring lost sailors into a false sense of security. His prominent cheekbones were dusted with a pleasant flush. Eyelashes thick, and dark - swept over with kohl. 

Daichi felt as though a feeble human gazing at stars. The merchant’s existence a mystery he wanted to discern.

The boy linked his fingers together with fluid elegance, considering Daichi with a quirk of his head. A smile ghosting his features - bangled earring swinging.

“What can I do for you?” His voice was the gentle patter of rain; oddly reassuring. 

In the presence of such a _ beautiful boy _ , his vocal chords shuddered to a debilitating halt. Words danced from reach, snickering at his ineptness as they parted. 

“I-I’m lost.” Daichi he said.

The earring swung. The sole purpose of such an accessory was to spite him. 

“We’re lost,” Kuroo corrected, ducking inside the tent. 

His eyes flared mischievously beneath his cloak. Swathed in similar material, flecked with dirt, Daichi was acutely aware of the sweat pasted against his skin. 

The merchant watched them, entertained, accustomed to being ogled at. 

Merchants were bought from slave markets and vended their owners discarded riches. Despite that, it wasn't the worst line of work to be sold off to. The thriving business of prostitution, had unfeasible conditions. 

Merchant or prostitute, employers hired only the most alluring clients. Easily swayed customers were lenient with wallets in the presence of a pretty smile and flourish of the hand. If they made any unadulterated advances it wouldn't matter. Slaves were slaves, and the king didn't deem them worth protecting.

The merchants smile was indiscernible, revealing only what he wanted to show. Did he flinch when approached? Or wear a delirious expression when aroused from a particularly real nightmare? Daichi hoped not. He  _ really _ hoped not.

"You look like travellers.” The boy skimmed his gaze over them. His eyes were ringed with copper and multitudes of gold - pupils abundant foliages of green. The gauzy wrap on his chest revealed a pale collarbone and-

Daichi swallowed. Because of the heat, because he was thirsty for water, because his throat was sandpaper, and because  _ dear god,  _ he was lying to himself about how attractive the boy truly was.

Kuroo snickered loftily, peeling his hood back. “Are we always this handsome?”

The merchant sighed longingly. “You may not all look the same, but you do smell the same.” 

Daichi had a sudden inexplicable urge to conceal himself with his cloak. He should’ve washed up at a watering hole, or freshened up. 

“What brings you here? I can’t imagine you’d like to buy anything I can offer.”

“We’re looking for a town,” Kuroo said lightly. Shrugging off his backpack, and rummaging through its contents, he retrieved a thin scroll. As Kuroo unraveled the map, the boy leant forward to peer at it. His hair hung freely, the color of ash, soft and glossy like a bird's feathers - his bangs braided with copper beads, and sterling feathers. 

“It’s called Asyut.” Kuroo pointed at the location on the map.

The merchant studied the surface, an intensity settling over his features. To the untrained eye, the change would be unremarkable. But, it was unusual for a merchant to be proficient at examining material. 

The merchant hummed and sat back, raking his eyes over Daichi, who couldn’t help but shift beneath his gaze. He had a creeping suspicion that the boy was dissecting him; aware that Daichi’s pulse quickened when he lied, aware of the way Daichi rubbed the back of his neck when he got nervous. He exhaled, reminding himself to look natural. _You’re not as weak as your legs feel._ _Don’t blush, don’t blush, Kuroo would never let you live it down, don’t blush_ \- 

“Asyut is nearby, but it’s fallen victim to loyalist attacks. It’s in a rather dangerous predicament. What business do you have there?”

He was probing for answers. Strangely, Daichi felt compelled to tell the truth. Although his body language remained closed off, his eyes were open and honest.

“We’re just visiting a friend to make sure he’s okay.” Kuroo disclosed. The merchant glanced at Daichi for confirmation - and he nodded to affirm. It wasn’t a  _ complete _ lie. “Do you know the directions or not?”

“Information is a valuable thing.” The boy hummed again, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “It'll cost you.” . 

“I knew it.” Kuroo straightened up assuredly. His tall stature forcing him to crane his neck to meet the boy’s eyes. “I knew your  _ I’m a defenseless angel  _ act, was too good to be true. You were hiding your true intentions, and just to get into Daichi’s pants! I don't know whether to be impressed or afraid.” 

“Daichi’s pants?” Daichi suppressed a sigh, resigning himself to his own fate, and the vortex of terror that always seemed to follow. Bokuto poked his head through the tent’s flap. 

At the absurdity of the situation, or how flustered Daichi was - the merchant tilted his head back, and laughed. The apology in his throat and what breath Daichi had, slipped away. The grin changed the planes of the boy’s face, smoothing and ruffling it into something that made Daichi feel privy to a treasure. 

Bokuto halted to a stop beside him, leaning forward to distinguish the expression on Daichi’s face.  “I think he broke Daichi.” 

Kuroo leered -  _ asshole _ . “Broke his dick, or his heart?”

Bokuto glanced down, pausing for a moment of consideration. “Both?” 

Blood rushed to Daichi’s face. He fixed them both an eerie glare, which under most circumstances, made them wither.  Daichi directed all his pent up resentment at them; for every animal pun made, for every starry eyed confession he’d been subjected to listen to, because  _ Akaashi was just too pretty  _ or  _ Tsukishima had a smile like the stars- _

“Did you find anything?” Kuroo asked, decisively changing the topic.

“They thought I was a spy. ” Bokuto replied despondently. Bokuto’s mood swings were unpredictable - bouts of sudden depression that left him floundering in melancholy. On Bokuto’s darker days, Daichi couldn’t help but feel useless. His consolations never felt like they were enough. 

That was where Kuroo came in; quick witted, and reassuring. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Kuroo clapped him on the back. “We’ve got our information, right here.” 

Bokuto brightened. “At the expense of Daichi’s pants?”

Kuroo nodded solemnly. “At the expense of Daichi’s pants.”

It was a disaster, unfurling at an alarming pace. _ But, _ If they weren’t going to be discreet than neither was he. Daichi moved to jab Kuroo in the gut, but he danced out of reach. After years of closeness, he’d grown prone to Daichi’s attacks.

He sensed the merchants eyes on him, and stopped. A strange thrill of satisfaction, thrummed in his veins. All he needed to do was avoid eye contact, and he could get by without appearing like a rambling idiot - which in itself was  _ ridiculous.  _

Daichi cleared his throat. “What exactly does this cost entail?”

The merchant trailed his finger in lazy circles, contemplating Daichi openly. “Just a name.” 

In their day and age, names held  _ power _ . Magic couldn't be used unless you had someone’s full name. In the slums, the capital, and even the nobility - magic prevailed. Countless horror stories of debauchery, necromancy, and witchcraft haunted the populace. Entire town’s populations, disappearing in a night - a collection of murders where the victims hearts had been removed, with bodies left perfectly intact. He’d continue, but preferred not to reminisce about the Asahi mistaken for Jesus incident. Honestly, the fact that Daichi had to console a grown man every time someone held a cup in his vicinity that _ no Azumane they do not want you to pee in the cup,  _ forced him to question his choice of friends.

Daichi mustered the confidence to  _ really, really  _ look at him. Past the makeup, and carefully arranged outfit. The boy stared evenly back. Lacking any trace of malice or animosity. 

“You don’t have to.” Kuroo picked at the sand wedged under his nails. The concern he displayed astounded Daichi. “It’ll be inconvenient if we have stop along the way to scrape your innards off the side of the road.”

“You inspire such confidence.” Daichi growled, resigned instead of indignant. He'd already bloody decided. “It’s Daichi. Sawamura Daichi.” He supplied, rubbing his neck sheepishly. Doing his best to avoid any kind of thrilling eye contact. 

The boy grinned teasingly. A special kind of smile, where he wasn't exactly beaming - but, exuded such fond and earnest affection. “You’re cute when you’re nervous, Daichi.”

“I don’t want to interrupt,” Bokuto said, as he proceeded to interrupt. “I mean, I really don't want to cockblock you here, dude.” He cast a sympathetic glance at the boy. “I empathise with others that are constantly faced with untimely entrances. But, we  _ need _ those directions.”

“It’s only fair I pay back my side of the bargain.” The merchant quirked his lip. “Head over the hill on your left, once you reach the top you’ll see the outskirts of town.”

“It’s that easy?” Kuroo was dubious.

“I for one, trust the pant trespasser,” Bokuto asserted. He was always a good judge of character; seeing past deceitful appearances, and finding a person’s true intentions. “I mean, I think I do. He kind of scares me.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” The boy didn't blink at the nickname. “I’d accompany you to town but you look like you can handle yourselves.”

Daichi’s feet were rooted to the ground - an underlying fear that if he left now, he’d be parting with something important.

Concern egged him on to delay the inevitable, to stall time by doing  _ anything, _ or saying  _ anything _ . 

“Well.” He didn’t know what he wanted to say. Words of encouragement the merchant would take comfort in? Knowing that Daichi would remember a boy made of stars. “I like your uh, ear-face.”

Maybe, it was too late to prove his functionality. 

Kuroo spluttered out his laugh, heaving out several unruly snorts. Bokuto stood in adamant awe, candidly reminding the merchant ‘ _ He’s lucky he’s handsome’.  _

“I mean, your earring is really nice” Daichi splayed his hands. “And your face is-it’s really nice, so...let me formally apologize.” 

“Aren’t you eloquent.” The boy teased. There it was again, the lilting laughter, that raised the corners of his mouth into a knowing smile. 

Kuroo sobered, and faced the merchant. The two considered each other, Kuroo with his double edged smile, the merchant with gentle tenacity. Kuroo nodded at him, pushed the flap of the tent open and ducked out.

Bokuto bounced on the balls of his feet eagerly, a renewal of energy at their latest discovery - Daichi could  _ feel _ his infectious excitement. He wished he shared it. Bokuto waved with a wide smile. “See you around.”

The earring swung. 

The overhanging enormity of the decision left Daichi nauseous. He wanted to stay. Learn the secrets the boy kept hidden behind quiet smiles. Wanted to know  _ him _ .  

He breathed everything in; the scent of cinnamon, the calming jingle of wind chimes, and the lilting laugh. 

He closed his eyes, and with an exhale, let it go.

                                                         - - - - - - - - -                                                                                                                         

Kuroo frowned pensively at the sandy expanse, eyebrows furrowed.

Bokuto clambered up the hill ahead. His speed had quickened remarkably. Daichi sincerely doubted it was due to the fact that they hadn't seen Oikawa in weeks. 

"What’s bothering you?" Daichi asked. 

"Why would he say,  _ you look like you can handle yourselves? _ ” Kuroo chewed his thumb apprehensively. “It was like he knew.”

"But there's no way-"

"He could've known." Kuroo finished. He laced his fingers behind his neck, leaning back to peer at the horizon. The sky helped him, and Daichi took absent notice of the familiar way Kuroo eased the tension out of his expression. "There's nothing we could do about it anyway."

The horizon was a hazy orange sunset, threaded with flushes of pink and striking hues of red. The wind halted, while the sun remained unrelenting. If Daichi turned now, the tents would be mere dots pockmarked in the distance. 

"Nothing we could do."   


End file.
